MKL's Dusty Bookshelf
by MegaKiraraLover
Summary: A collection of old stories. Challenges/Idea-Dump. Included are: Draco the Jashinist, Harry raising Pokemon, Freddy Krueger fighting Voldemort, Harry fighting vampires, Voldemort as Harry as Voldemort, Malfoy the Kitsune, Snape Potter, and more.
1. MKL's Note

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize as being from a major series-mostly Harry Potter, but there are crossovers within this-is not mine.

This is my new Harry Potter Idea-Dump. I've seen lots of others do it, but have never bothered myself...but today I was going through my old flashdrive and found literally 30 HP crossovers I started and never finished...plus 15 regular stories...and that's just what showed up at first glance.

Um. Oops? -awkward laughter-

So if you were curious, here you go! I encourage any who wish to expand upon the ideas, take them for your own, take the first chapter and write your own story, consider the ideas challenges...et cetera.

**Just a few quick notes.**

1: These stories are pretty much never going to be expanded upon. Don't get your hopes up. If you want to have more, write it yourself! ;)

2: If a story IS expanded upon at any point, there will be a note added in the chapter title.

3: If you take up one of these stories, let me know! I'd love to read them! :D It'd be fun to see my half-baked ideas come to life~

4: Some of these stories are literally years old. The first one I'm throwing up is from early 2010. Some of them are from as early as 2008. So yeah, please ignore any spelling/continuity problems. :P

5: Enjoy!

-MKL, signing out.


	2. NaruHP: Draco and the Power of Jashin

Draco Malfoy and the Power of Jashin

Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Jashin-sama cared deeply for each of his followers, from that annoying bitch from Shangri-La to the infamous Akatsuki no Hidan. So when Life, Death, and Fate conspired against his rather favored follower, Jashin took action. Thus it was that Hidan and those closest to him were reborn in where else but the Harry Potter universe. As the quartet regain their memories, they'll face everything from random Japanese to naïve questions to bursts of chakra to powerful enemies to the perfect man—wait, what? **Reborn!Characters** **Grey!Akatsuki** post-deaths, manga-based, partly AU

.-.-.-.-.

Contrary to what might be believed, the god known as Jashin wasn't exactly an impulsive, vulgar, or even violent man. He was rather quiet, in a slightly "emo" way, with a mild tendency to be coldly irritated with people and an even higher tendency to sigh loudly for no apparent reason when one of his loyal followers (usually one chick from Konohagakure...or that idiot Hidan) did something stupid and/or were too excessive in their sacrifices (coughHidancough).

Thus it was that, when the god suddenly let out a shouted curse and angrily whirled down to the spirit world without any warning, more than one of his sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, and uncles flinched violently and ran off to pray to a higher god than them for safety. Only three were unsurprised at the outburst—namely Fate, Life, and Death, who all exchanged glances (two sympathetic and one completely deadpan) before leaving to let their nephew/grandson do what he felt he had to do.

-.-.-.-.-

Hidan had no idea how long he had been stuck in the hole that stupid Nara brat—Shikuki or something utterly ridiculous like that—had trapped him in, but he knew it had been a long time. He felt…weary. Tired. Like death was finally coming to claim him and bring him to Jashin-sama's own Plane of Existence.

The young-ish Jashinist wasn't sure how he felt about that thought, to be honest. On the one hand, he would finally be able to meet and stay with his God, learning directly from Him the Ways all Followers had to follow. On the other hand…he was upset with himself for the pathetic way he was dying. Lack of sacrifices was sucking away his immortality; how long before he ended up dead, like Sasori, like the sad bastard that he had killed which resulted in his death, like…Kakuzu.

Emotional pain was not something Hidan was used to, but the thought of his long-time partner certainly reminded him of its power. He had been able to sense Kakuzu's dying moments before he himself had been buried, and the curious twisting of a proverbial knife in his gut made Hidan grimace even with the dirt pouring around him. As much as the man was a bastard, Hidan had a respect and kinship with the old miser he wasn't sure he wanted to admit.

"My Faithful…" an unfamiliar tenor muttered from somewhere behind Hidan. The man whirled on his heel in shock, eyes snapping open—

Wait, what?

Hidan was distracted from thoughts of being in pieces last he had checked upon spotting the ethereal figure before him, indescribable in his handsomeness, with the most aristocratic and symmetrical features Hidan had ever seen highlighted by bright red eyes boring into his own and messy black hair that was tied back in a loose ponytail, trailing to the man's waist and flipped over one of his shoulders.

"Hello, Hidan," the man's voice smoothly greeted with much more grace than any mortal's. Hidan's eyes went wide before he sank to his knees and bowed with his forehead on the ground, eyes closed in rapture as he realized who the Being before him truly was.

"Jashin-sama," he reverently uttered, unable to believe it. All he could do was repeat his God's name once more, slightly louder, before a hand as cold of death with long fingers and sharp claw-like nails gently ghosted over his shoulder.

"Arise, Hidan," Jashin-sama commanded in that same soft and smooth tenor. Hidan was instantly kneeling upward, unafraid to admit his gaze was adoring as it drank in the features of the one and only God he believed in. Thin lips were twisted up slightly in an elegant mockery of a smile that made Hidan want to smile back despite the out-of-character-ness of the action. "It is good to finally meet you in person, My Faithful. I merely wish it were not under such dire circumstances."

Hidan could only nod mutely, too awed to trust his voice. Jashin-sama rolled His red eyes, looking exactly similar to the blood of those Hidan sacrificed in His name, before making a motion with His hand for Hidan to stand up. The not-quite-immortal was on his feet in an instant, no hesitation in his movements. He felt pride when Jashin-sama inclined His head in approval.

"Perhaps I was not wrong to come to you. But now is not the time for pleasantries. It is the time for asking, for explaining, and most importantly—the time for your next chance at life."

"Chance…at life?" echoed Hidan, at last finding his voice and not at all embarrassed at the pathetic way it cracked. Jashin-sama's eyebrow twitched as if wanting to arch, then He nodded slightly, His smile dropping.

"Yes, your next chance at life, My Faithful," He solemnly agreed. "It was not in my plans for your demise to ever happen, yet it seems that Life and Death conspired once more against my wishes. However, this time, I plan to help you as I could not before."

A pause followed, and Hidan felt that he should speak. "Jashin-sama…how?"

And Jashin-sama's smile returned, ever-so-slightly. "That is easy. I shall give you new life in another universe, where you shall get the chance to live life anew before regaining your memories of this time so you may continue my work. And…" Jashin-sama paused and Hidan barely noticed as he leaned forward in anticipation of what He would say. "…those you believe should return with you. I would assume that you know which ones I speak of."

Two specific faces followed mere seconds by a third passed through Hidan's mind; the widening of Jashin-sama's smile confirmed his thoughts. But anything he wanted to say was interrupted by his Lord.

"Our time runs short," Jashin-sama suddenly said. Slowly, He moved His hand over Hidan's bare chest (it was about then that the albino noticed both of them were completely clothes-less, but he didn't really care enough to point such a thing out) and the air He passed over shimmered before a familiar weight settled around the back of Hidan's neck.

The man looked down and gingerly fingered the pendant he had received so long ago when he killed the priest who had taught him about Jashinism. But despite the familiarity, there was also an unfamiliar power pulsing through the silver that felt like outrageously strong chakra. His gaze darted up to his Lord.

"The power that now runs throughout your amulet will allow you to see the others for who they are and return to their memories when you see fit," explained Jashin-sama even more softly. "Just remember when you regain your memories upon your fifteenth year, My Faithful: although you may not feel like it, much like the power wielded within the symbol of your faith…"

The world was fading, and Hidan strained to keep sight of Jashin-sama, but it was too quickly gone; the last thing he heard was his Lord's soothing voice, speaking calmly, but fiercely:

"…I…shall always be protecting you…"

Thus it was that Hidan fell asleep for a long, long time.

-.-

.-.

Hidan could tell you the exact moment he returned to consciousness. His new self had been idly lying awake, staring at a Tempus spell cast at the foot of his bed, silently counting down the moments until he was fifteen and one step closer to being an adult free from his father's confines, but when the Tempus struck midnight—

A pain, unbearable in one existence, familiar but exceedingly uncomfortable in another, split through the blond teenager's head. Mouth open in a silent scream, the teen tumbled off his bed and hit the floor with a loud thud, instantly curling into a fetal position as memories—familiar, but unfamiliar, dark but light, despairing but perfect, unbelievable but true—slammed their way into his skull. Finally, he was left panting in a heap, his Occlumency coming in use as he hurriedly sorted through and stored all of his memories as was fit.

For the first time in fifteen years, Hidan scowled. "Holy shit, that fuckin' hurt," he muttered, painfully pulling himself onto his hands and knees and shaking his head. Long, thick white-blond hair fell into his now grey-blue eyes, and a quick glance in the mirror revealed a too-thin face, but he felt much better than before he had been shoved into that stupid hole.

Again, in a mockery of the visitation of his God, Hidan felt a familiar weight settle around his neck and he glanced down to see his amulet dangling in front of him, the bottom of the circle barely trailing along the floor. A pulse of magic wound its way up the silver chain and into Hidan's neck, causing him to slowly close his eyes and relax almost imperceptively.

"Jashin-sama," mumbled Hidan, gripping the cool silver of the amulet in his too-thin hands. He scowled suddenly upon being reminded of his lack of physical ability outside of riding a broom, the semi-conflicting thoughts seamlessly running together despite the two different lives they entailed. "…thank you."

The amulet pulsed lightly in response, and Hidan gently let it go before climbing to his feet. He made his way over to the full-length mirror he had caught sight of his face in earlier and scowled faintly, a hand cockily on his hip and said hip jutting out. The femininity of the action flew over/through-and-out-of his head.

"Holy shit, I need to work out."

Sure enough, he did; Hidan's new(-ish?) body felt like it was made of sticks compared to his old one, and looked much less intimidating. At least he still had some height on him, mused Hidan, smirking faintly at himself before dropping his arm and flexing his fingers. But other than Seeker/Chaser reflexes and muscle groups, he definitely had some work to do.

A glance outside his window and Hidan's smirk widened. Well, no better time like the present.

So it was that Hidan began his first of many training routines in preparation for the future.

.-.-.-.-.

One little thing Hidan forgot to take into account when he left the house/mansion that morning was rather important, in retrospect. Namely his new parents.

The Jashinist couldn't remember much about his old family. He had some hazy memories of two younger brothers who had inherited their father's kekkei genkai even though Hidan himself had not, and of his mother dying during the youngest's birth while his father died some time later, but that was literally a lifetime ago. But his new family…

Well, see for yourself:

"My Dragon!" his mother shouted in a half-hysterical voice the minute Hidan walked in through the door, enveloping him in a hug that made him stiffen slightly in surprise and preparation of an attack. His broom, having been taken just in case he was caught while coming back (which he obviously was), clattered to the floor as his arms wandered of their own accord to wrap around his mother's back, all too aware of how much taller than her he was.

Holy fuck, _his mother_. He wasn't quite sure he had known about the implications of such a thing earlier, elated by his memory's return, but wow. A quick prayer of thanks was sent up to Jashin-sama without much thought just a moment before Hidan crashed down from his high in the face of his steel-expressioned father, positioned over his mother's left shoulder.

It wasn't that Hidan's new life hated his father. On the contrary, he had idolized the man for so many years that he would do anything to make him happy, even though that often was the most stupid and painful thing he could do. But growing up began a sense of disillusionment, and the upheaval of Hidan's memories sealed the deal that following in his father's footsteps wasn't the best idea.

"Where have you been?" the elder(technically?) man asked in a low tone. Not quite sure how surprised he was by, well, everything, Hidan merely frowned slightly at his father.

"I woke up early," he said, mentally wondering at the much different accent he had within this new life, "and decided to go practice Quidditch, Father. Did I do something wrong?"

His father hissed out between closed lips. Luckily enhancing senses naturally was a mental skill rather than a physical one, or else Hidan would have missed the noise. But before his father could say anything, his mother pulled back with a warm—if slightly watery—smile and gently took Hidan's too-thin face in her hands, either ignoring or not caring about the thin sheet of sweat over it from the intense workout he had begun.

"It's fine, Draco," soothed his mother with a smile that honestly made her much prettier than the sneer she kept in public ever did. "Your father and I were just worried because of everything that happened at the end of last school year…"

"Narcissa," his father half-interrupted with slightly narrowed eyes. Narcissa shot him a look in return, her hands moving to Hidan's shoulders instead.

"Lucius, hush," she responded tersely before smiling again at Hidan. "Now, come on, Dragon; it's your day, and the house elves made your favorite breakfast and everything. Then we can go to Diagon Alley and choose your present, yes?"

"Thank you," Hidan quietly said, wondering how many previously-foreign emotions he could feel in one day. He could count on one hand how many times he had felt anything positive that didn't involve killing or fighting or torturing on any level in his past life, and he was faintly disgusted with how spoiled his current self had once been. But Hidan certainly hoped, as he and his parents walked into the kitchen, that the moments would continue for years to come.

-.-.-.-.-

Later that day, Hidan was walking through Diagon Alley with his mother, absently looking over each of the shops in search of what he wanted for his birthday (preferably something shiny and pointy and capable of killing) when he was distracted by a pulse of magic. He instantly stopped, his hand wandering to the area over his amulet, and—there. Another pulse of magic from the cool silver, unnoticeable to any other than himself, judging by the glance he gave around the area.

Slowly, grey-blue eyes scanned the Alley as the not-teenager ignored Narcissa's worried glance in his direction. His eyes soon landed on a figure that stood out from the rest, and when he blinked, he saw—

"Of course," Hidan breathed, shaking his head irritably as he tried hard not to scowl.

"Draco?" asked Narcissa quietly. Hidan cast her a quick smile.

"Sorry, just thinking…Mother, I'd like to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies. Do you want to meet me later?"

Narcissa seemed torn for a few moments, most likely because of her dislike of Quidditch, then apparently thought of a reason why Hidan wanted to be alone and smiled knowingly.

"Okay, Draco," she said quietly, nodding. "I'll meet you at Flourish and Blotts in an hour, okay?"

Hidan just nodded with a slight smile, watching his mother disappear into the crowds before a scowl turned his lips. He yanked the Amulet of Jashin out from under his shirt and held it tightly in one hand, his eyes scanning the area once again. A flicker of energy quickly caught his attention wandering into Magical Menagerie and Hidan was there just moments after it disappeared into the popular pet shop.

After only a moment's hesitation, Hidan opened the doors to the shop, wincing faintly at the sharp smells that hit him head-on before he began wandering down the aisles in search of the one that he had seen earlier. Too soon, he found her, and as he glanced down the aisle at her long blonde hair and vacant-looking eyes, it was all he could do to prevent himself from laughing.

Clearly, Jashin-sama _did_ love him, Hidan decided with a barely-stifled snicker. That was the only way this situation could be so humorous and poetically perfect. But at the same time, it was a disaster, because this was his second cousin that he honestly had minimal interaction with in their lives.

"Hello, Draco Malfoy," the girl's dreamy voice suddenly said as too-wide, but bright blue eyes turned towards him. Hidan blinked in surprise before he recovered himself, at which point in time he slowly crept over and gave a brief nod in greeting.

"Luna Lovegood," he greeted back as politely as possible. Luna smiled slightly and inclined her head in return, fully turning away from the spider tank she had been inspecting.

"It is nice to see you again. Were you aware that you have far fewer Wrackspurts than a normal wizard?"

Hidan, again, blinked. "…far fewer _what_?"

"Wrackspurt!" chirped the blonde with only the barest hint of something in her eyes. Hidan had never been the best at identifying more complex emotions on other people. "They are invisible creatures that make your mind hazy and mess with your perceptions of the world. You seem to have less than half the amount nearly everyone else I have ever seen hold."

"That so?" asked Hidan, faintly amused. His Draco memories brought forth a conversation with Lucius about how they were not to talk about his father's brother or his spawn in public, because they were disgraces who believed in things that weren't true, but Hidan completely disregarded that now. Partly because he now knew who Luna Lovegood truly was.

And partly because she was totally fucking amusing, seriously.

"Yes," Luna said, still smiling, but with a serious look in her eyes. "It's easy for someone perceptive enough to notice."

"Hmm," was Hidan's noncommittal reply. Luna tilted her head slightly and just stared at Hidan for quite a long minute. Hidan just stared back. Then, quite suddenly, she was completely lucid and had a spark of intelligence in her eyes that was clearly the mark of a Ravenclaw and, somewhere buried under her new life, a prodigy.

"Tell me, Draco. Why is it that you followed me in here? Do you need something, or are you just looking for new material to make fun of," a slight sneer alit to her eyes, "'Loony Lovegood'?"

Hidan was slightly taken aback. "Er, what?" Luna continued to stare in that unnerving way that reminded Hidan of a spell that allowed people to see through the body to the bones underneath. "…would you believe that I just wanted to talk?"

It took a few moments for Luna to stop observing Hidan, but when she did, she was instantly back to that dreamy state and smiling hazily.

"Well, then, come with me, Draco Malfoy," she asked/commanded, holding out her hand expectantly. "I know just the place we can talk."

-END-

MKL's Post-Production Notes (8-7-13): SPOILERS! Luna=Deidara. -evil laughter- Also, Kakuzu was Neville and Tobi was Harry. Yeah.


	3. PKMNHP: Gary Oak and Prisoner of Azkaban

Gary Oak and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Summary: ? During-HP3 (AU), Post-Johto League

Notes on OOC-ness: Make sure you keep in mind how much Gary grew up after the Sinnoh and Johto League Tournaments-and how much he stayed the same haha.

**Chapter Zero - Blood Protection  
**_Albus Dumbledore's Mistake?_

Minerva McGonagall trusted her old professor and employer, Headmaster Albus too-many-middle-names Dumbledore, inexplicably. When even some of his most loyal followers faltered and doubted him, she was right there fighting for his sake, reminding them of this and that and Dumbledore is one of the wisest people in the modern age whether they be muggle or magical—why doubt him or his ways, no matter how strange they may seem?

However, even she was slightly concerned (alright, _deeply_ concerned) when she heard what he planned to do with their precious Savior, the recently dubbed Boy-Who-Lived, Harry James Potter.

"Albus, are you _absolutely sure_ this is best?" she asked in a hushed whisper, aware even through her apprehension and near anger that the dear baby was sleeping in the basket on the table between the two colleagues. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as they often did as he hummed lightly, finishing off the letter he was writing.

"Quite sure, Minerva," he said cheerfully even as he, too, kept his voice down. "After all, it wouldn't do to put young Harry here in a dangerous situation, now, would it?"

This caused McGonagall to huff lightly, a frown etching itself into her gently lined face. "It's likely he'll end up in a dangerous situation anyway!"

Dumbledore frowned slightly in return, sealing his letter in a thick envelope with wax and the seal of Hogwarts.

"The spell I am planning to use will prevent that," he said evenly, his smile slipping back into place.

"You haven't even told us—" McGonagall paused and abruptly lowered her voice from a hoarse shout to a harsh whisper when Harry stirred slightly within his makeshift crib. "Albus, you have yet to tell even _me_ what this 'spell' you're planning to use is or what it is going to do!"

"Ah, is that the source of your worries?" Dumbledore's smile widened and he chuckled, causing McGonagall to visibly restrain herself from doing something rash. 'Is that the source' indeed! "Well, you should have just said so!"

"I did," hissed McGonagall lightly, barely able to keep her temper in check. It wasn't often that Dumbledore was the source of such anger, but when he was, it was hard to hold her back.

Dumbledore himself either didn't notice or ignored the danger, nodding and humming in agreement. "Right, of course," he said, making it sound like he didn't believe her. McGonagall ground her teeth in agitation and carefully counted backwards from twenty before he continued. "The spell I am using, Minerva, my dear, is one that will place a Blood Protection on young Harry, then transport him to the place where it will best hold while best keeping him safe from sources both magical and non."

McGonagall's newly-calm face paled slightly. "Blood Magic?! Albus, you have truly lost your mind!" Both professors abruptly stopped their conversation when little Harry stirred within his basket, cooing lightly, before he settled down again with a content sigh. A few more moments of tense silence followed before the conversation resumed with a further lowered volume, making Minerva's sigh all the louder when it escaped her. "Blood Magic is dangerous and unpredictable, Albus, you know this as well as I do—most likely more so! Blood Magic is what caused Salazaar Slytherin's descent into the Dark Arts, what gave Voldemort whatever bastardized immortality he possesses!"

His smile gone, Dumbledore abruptly interrupted the Deputy Headmistress, tone sharp. "It is also what has allowed Hogwarts to survive for so long without fear of being destroyed, by muggles or otherwise!"

A deafening silence followed these words as Dumbledore's face slowly softened.

"Minerva, we have little choice," he said softly and with a barely-stifled sigh. "This Protection will do what I myself cannot—make the best choice for protection and happiness during Harry's future."

McGonagall was stunned into silence and was unable to comment as Dumbledore put the envelope into Harry's basket, smiling softly and sadly at the child. He leaned forward a fraction when this was done and gently brushed thin wisps of brown-black hair from Harry's forehead, briefly bringing light to the lightning bolt scar he had received mere hours before.

"Good luck, Harry..." He raised his wand. "**Sanguis Protegas Ad Sanguis**!"

With these final words, brilliant white light spilt forth from Dumbledore's wand and surrounded Harry's basket, swallowing him from sight.

When it cleared, the basket, the letter, and the baby were all gone.

HPPKMN

There was no way for Dumbledore to know what had happened to the Savior known as Harry Potter that faithful night when he cast the spell for the ultimate Protection. He assumed that the boy had gone to his aunt's house, although he couldn't be too sure and didn't dare check for fear of someone being able to force him to reveal the location through Verasium. Then again, he also assumed Tom Riddle was redeemable and that the Protection spell he had cast revolved around blood in the literal sense, so perhaps he was not the best authority on this matter.

Thus it would be quite a surprise for the Headmaster to learn that Harry somehow had the grace to end up on a whole other plane of existence—right in front of a Legendary creature, thought by many to be a mere myth and powerful beyond belief.

After her vision finally cleared, the Legendary Pokémon known as Celebi blinked her large blue eyes, the black rims and lids making it seem like they were swallowed up before magically reappearing on her face. Yup, it was still there—the Hume hatchling with thin strands over its head wrapped in a "blanket" and surrounded by an aura of calm was still sleeping soundly in the odd carrying case it had appeared in.

Tilting her head, Celebi drifted a bit closer, making a cooing noise of surprise when she saw Hume writing on the strange material in the Hume's hand. She couldn't read it, of course (Celebi was the type to avoid Humes as much as possible, having seen the worst of the older ones many times in her long life), but she got the sense that it was important. She got the same sense from the Hume hatchling, as well. It urged her to protect the Hume at all costs. Maybe it had to do with that "maternal instinct" Suicune occasionally went on about not having...?

Either way, Celebi was a Legendary Pokémon, not a hatchlingsitter. She had no idea what to do with a Hume as young as this. But that didn't change the fact that she could find someone who could.

Thus it was with determination in her large heart that Celebi gently picked up the basket in her frail-looking hands and flew off towards the large concentration of Good Will she had often felt from the next Land for many years in succession. And as she flew, Celebi silently made a vow to protect this Hume hatchling for the rest of her existence.

And so the years passed...

And passed...

And passt...

And past...

And the past became the future.

…

**Chapter One - Silly Celebi!  
**_The Repercussions of Time-Travel_

Professor Samuel Oak was a rather rational man, as evidenced by his title. Things always had a rhyme and a reason no matter how impossible-sounding, and everything was always in its rightful place. His grandchildren would do things that were aggravating and sometimes almost impossible to give him a heart attack, along with everyone else from Pallet Town, because whatever god was out there wanted him to die at a young age. See, rhyme and reason.

This was one of those things that were being done:

"Gary! Wh-why are you-what are you—WHY ARE YOU HANGING OFF THE SIDE OF A CLIFF?" Oak half-shouted, half-sobbed in anime disbelief and incredulousness. For his part, Gary glanced up over the lip of the ledge he was holding on to and rolled his eyes with all the arrogance of a young child.

"Geez, Gramps, breathe," the teen said in a tone that was a mix between amused, exasperated, and annoyed. "I'm just checking on the Pidgey nest down here. Wanted to make sure they were getting on okay since their dad got captured. Besides, it's not like I'm going to die or anything—Ferrow is circling down below to catch me if I fall."

Oak made a noise of disbelief and sighed, pulling back from leaning over the cliff face to sit on his legs and rub at his face. "'Not like I'm going to die or anything', he says...maybe _you_ won't die, but keep giving me scares like that and _I_ just might!"

Gary snorted at that and rolled his eyes again. "You're a tough old guy, Gramps. You're not gunna die any time soon."

"So you say," muttered Oak, slowly raising himself into a standing position and wincing as his back gave an impressive 'pop.' He turned away from the cliff, satisfied his grandson wasn't making a suicide attempt, and shook his head in disbelief. "I swear, these kids will be the death of me...hmm?"

A loud crack interrupted Oak's monolog and he stared curiously in the direction of his lab. He could have sworn...was that the sound of two Pokémon fighting? If it were, Bulbasaur would investigate...but what if it was Team Rocket, _again_, doing another one of their hair-brained schemes (which amused Oak more than worried him if it was the team that often followed Ash, but was deadly serious if it was one of the other ones)? There was only so long Pokémon raised to follow a Trainer would last if left alone.

Oak was off and running in an instant, making his way towards the labs and pausing only a moment to question Bulbasaur—whom he had conveniently run in to—before the Pokémon joined his trip. It would seem that there was no sign of any trouble with the others, which lead to the assumption that Team Rocket was to blame for the loud crack. That or one of the buildings was falling down; yes, that was actually pretty close to the sound he had heard...

When Oak finally arrived at the front door of his labs, he was panting heavily, one hand clutching his heart and the other resting on his knee as he tried to regain his breath. Tired dark green eyes scanned the area before settling on two men standing in front of his door, watching both himself and presumably Bulbasaur with surprise and interest.

"Hullo there!" the elder of the two men cheerfully greeted in a slightly foreign accent. He was older than Oak by quite a bit, his face heavily lined with smiles and frowns past, and his hair and impressive beard fell past his waist, carefully groomed despite the length. He had a grandfatherly visage that Oak could appreciate and blue eyes that twinkled merrily. The only thing that could even possibly put Oak off was the rather gaudy dark purple suit the man was wearing, complete with a lighter purple undershirt and a dark blue tie that featured yellow stars on it.

"Er...hello," Oak responded after he regained his breath, straightening up with a slight, welcoming smile. He wasn't one to judge people solely on appearances but since Bulbasaur wasn't reacting other than to gaze curiously upon the newcomers, he thought that things were rather safe. Bulbasaur had developed quite the trouble-radar after a year of working in the fields, after all. "Sorry about my appearance; I heard a loud crack and thought perhaps there was something wrong...do you know what that might have been?"

"No idea," the elder man cheerfully said. Next to him, his companion made a slight noise, but didn't visibly do anything more than arch a single eyebrow at Oak. He was slightly taller than the elder man, with pale skin that sharply contrasted slightly oily-looking black hair Oak identified as being a result of a genetic defect and glittering black eyes that hid any emotion the man might have shown. He was wearing simple black slacks and a black long-sleeved shirt, a silver chain hanging around his neck before hiding behind his shirt being the only bit of jewelry either of the two had.

"Ah." Oak blinked once then glanced at Bulbasaur, whom ducked his head in his version of a little shrug. His eyes quickly returned to the two men and he smiled kindly. "I'm sorry. It must have been someone in town doing some sort of work." He moved closer to the two men, Bulbasaur still trailing behind him, and cheerfully went on. "May I help you two?"

"Perhaps." The elder man paused, looked at his companion, then returned his gaze to Oak. "If you don't mind, may we ask your name?"

Oak's smile brightened at once. He always found it amazing when people didn't know who he was and it was always a relief that they weren't merely visiting because of his celebrity status. Crowds and occasionally strangers made him rather nervous. "Oh! I apologize." He held out his hand. "My name is Professor Samuel Oak. It's nice to meet you."

Both men seemed rather taken aback, but the elder's eyes soon began twinkling merrily, and he took Oak's hand in both of his own much more wrinkled ones.

"What a coincidence," he cheerfully said, "I am Headmaster Albus Dumbledore of a boarding school known as Hogwarts and this is my school's, ah, chemistry teacher, Professor Severus Snape."

Oak blinked in surprise before chuckling. "Nice to meet you, Professors," he said, recognition at one of the names gently tickling his mind. He carefully tucked away the memories that arose until later on, but before he could comment:

"Bulba?" Bulbasaur croaked in a curious voice. Both Professors looked startled at the sound/word but Oak merely let out a noise of recognition and smiled apologetically at his companion.

"I'm sorry, Bulbasaur; I often forget Ash never went to an actual school." Oak chuckled slightly at the thought before raising a finger pointedly. "Professors are not merely people who study and know much about Pokémon; they are also teachers who instill knowledge with others. It's much like how so many people come to visit us to ask about Pokémon behaviors, but a school has many different teachers and many different subjects, not merely Pokémon. Math, science, reading..."

Bulbasaur seemed to understand and smiled, bobbing his head in a nod, before he glanced behind himself and blinked.

"My ramblings are nowhere near as important as your duties, of course," chuckled Oak again. "Feel free to run off and share your new knowledge with the others. I'll be inside with Daisy and Bayleef."

"Bulba, saur!" was Bulbasaur's reply with another nod. The Pokémon quickly turned around and bounded off into the forested area of Oak's lab, soon disappearing from sight.

Oak turned back towards his visitors and smiled slightly at the looks on their faces. "Please, come join me inside. It's almost tea time and my granddaughter makes the most excellent jasmine tea you could even imagine."

Dumbledore happily agreed to the terms and Snape inclined his head slightly before the two followed Oak into his lab, gazing around with curiosity at the large amount of Pokémon-study-related technology in the main room before Oak lead them through a back door into his private quarters. As a sharp contrast, this room was much more homely and soft, with simple walls covered in pictures of Oak's family and friends, a large comfortable couch, Oak's favorite black-felt chair, and a simple television with a phone attached for emergency calls.

"Grandpa?" called a feminine voice from a side doorway without a door. Oak smiled as his granddaughter walked into the room, blinking at the newcomers.

"Come here, Daisy," he kindly called. The twelve-year-old padded over and gazed curiously at Oak's companions, although she smiled when Oak gently gave her a hug before turning his attention back to his guests. "Professors, this is my granddaughter, Daisy Oak. Daisy, these are some new acquaintances of mine, Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape."

Daisy smiled shyly and pulled closer to her grandfather before giving a soft-voiced greeting, her noticeably brighter green eyes wide but trusting. "It's nice to meet you, Sirs. Um, would you like some tea as well...? I'm making some for Grandpa right now."

"Tea would be lovely," Dumbledore assured the girl. Daisy's shy smile widened and she ducked her head before pulling out of Oak's arms and quickly darting into the kitchen, humming slightly. Oak gestured towards the couch, entreating his guests to sit, and only sat down in his own chair with a relieved sigh after they had done such.

A silence that was only mildly uncomfortable descended upon the group for a little while before Daisy carried a tea tray into the room, setting it on the table between the couch, the TV, and the chair Oak was currently occupying.

"Grandpa, I have to go back home now," Daisy said with a warm smile for her relative. "I promised Tracy I'd help him find some new Pokémon to sketch; there's a rumor that someone saw a scruffy-looking Pidgeotto just outside of town! I'll be back tonight for dinner, okay?"

"Of course," Oak said just as warmly in return. "Thank you for the tea, Daisy. Be careful, okay? And make sure you stay near Tracy at all times."

Daisy bobbed her head before politely saying goodbye to the two Professors and nearly skipping out the door. After it had closed, Oak nodded to his companions and began fixing his tea.

"Now then...what brings you to Pallet Town, Professors, if I may ask? We're not exactly known for tourism in these parts."

"We're here looking for someone, actually," Dumbledore admitted with a smile, adding a copious amount of sugar his own tea, Oak's tired eyes quickly noted. If he put that much sugar into everything, Oak mused to himself with quite a bit of mirth, it was a medical miracle the man had survived for so long. "About thirteen years ago, there was a tragedy within our town. Two wonderful parents died and their child was placed elsewhere for protection. We have reason to believe he ended up here."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Oak said compassionately. "I know how hard it is when you lose those who are close to you..." The man's normally strong voice trailed off and he shook his head before taking a sip of tea, his tone noticeably more cheerful when he went on. "Perhaps you can tell me his name? I've lived here my whole life and I know nearly everyone; my brother is even the mayor of the town."

Dumbledore looked at Oak for a long moment and the younger of the two got the strong feeling he was being tested. But his green gaze was steady upon the other man's blue one, ignoring the tingle that was on the edge of his mind, as if an Abra was unsuccessfully trying to read it. Lord knew it had happened often enough.

Soon, Dumbledore smiled again. "His name," the man replied, "is Harry. Harry James Potter."

Minutely, Oak's eyes widened before they went back to normal, and he smiled as well. "I'm afraid there's no one named 'Harry James Potter' in this part of the world," he admitted. "I'm very sorry."

"You're lying," Snape suddenly said, speaking for the first time. His glittering black eyes were narrowed and his silky-deep voice caused Oak to blink in mild surprise. "You've at least heard the name before."

Oak paused only a moment. "...I have."

"Where?" asked Dumbledore eagerly. Oak shifted his gaze between the two Professors for a long moment before he sighed, slowly getting to his feet.

"I'll be right back," he said with all the weariness of his years before retreating into the kitchen and up the stairs that connected to his lab attic. He walked through the dusty room, pausing in front of an old trunk, nostalgia flowing through him. He opened it up and gazed silently at the contents for a long moment.

_'So this is what it's come to,'_ he thought with a slight, sad grin. _'Well. We shall see what results, hmm, my dear friend?'_

Just as Oak was reaching for the trunk's contents, a loud shout of surprise and a familiar Pokémon cry made Oak jerk his head towards the door. He quickly gathered what he needed, running down the stairs and wrapping what he had taken in a blanket he had also grabbed, only to stop in the doorway of his lab's living room in shock.

A laugh escaped Oak's throat as he took in the scene of Bayleef half-laying on top of Snape, sprawled out awkwardly on the ground with a scowl in place and his hair and clothes horribly mussed, Bayleef cooing happily over him and nuzzling the poor man with her head.

"Looks like Bayleef has taken a liking to you, Professor Snape," Oak said with an unhidden chuckle despite Snape's warning/glaring look. "You must have quite the way with the ladies."

Snape's cheeks took on an interesting pink shade, causing both Oak and Dumbledore to chuckle again, before Oak turned his attention to Bayleef and clicked his tongue.

"C'mon, Bayleef, don't squish the poor man. He's a guest."

"Bay, bay!" cheered Bayleef, jumping off of Snape before running over and nuzzling her head instead into Oak's side. Oak grinned at her and patted her head before turning his attention back to Snape, who was slowly getting up off the floor with the occasional grimace of pain.

"You'll have to excuse Bayleef," he said, trying not to laugh again if for no other reason than to protect the raven-haired man's pride. "She's a bit...eccentric, but she really means no harm. Actually, her doing that highly suggests she likes you."

"That's a first," Snape irritably mumbled, finally on both legs. He shot a warning look at Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling brightly in amusement, before carefully settling himself back on the couch. Bayleef made a noise rather like a giggle from her spot next to Oak.

"I assume you have something to show us?" Dumbledore plainly asked, gazing curiously at the bundle under Oak's arm. Oak's hand paused on Bayleef's head, and reddish-gold eyes gazed at him in notable concern.

"Baaaay?" Bayleef asked curiously and worriedly. Oak flashed her a private smile of assurance before making his way back to his chair, cradling the bundle carefully. Bayleef followed behind and lay at his feet, her head in his lap as she gazed up at him with surprisingly mournful eyes. "Baay..."

"I'm fine," Oak verbally reassured the Pokémon, reaching out and gently petting her head with two fingers. Bayleef smiled slightly and closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, and kept them closed after Oak pulled away to gently open the bundle. Dumbledore and Snape both watched with rapt attention as a severely yellowed and brittle-looking envelope was revealed, loopy handwriting on the front reading,

_To Whom It May Concern_

With a certain care, Oak opened the envelope, feeling two sets of eyes trained rather firmly on him. He retracted an equally-yellowed and brittle-looking piece of paper, although it was slightly less likely to spontaneously fall apart than the envelope, and when he unfolded it, he read aloud:

To whom it may concern:

If you are a muggle, or in other words someone who has never seen magic first-hand, there is another letter enclosed with this which you should read before this one. If not, or if you are already done with that letter, then I must ask you to listen to my plea.

The child within this basket is young Harry James Potter. On this morning of Friday October 31st, at precisely 2:53:07 AM, a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle—also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort _(Snape flinched just slightly)_—attacked his home. His mother and father were both killed by the unstoppable Killing Curse, which does as the name suggests. However, when Tom reached Harry and fired off that same curse, it was stopped before backfiring spectacularly upon him. Harry is the first to do this in the known history of the Wizarding World. This extraordinary feat is a cause for celebration, for as you read in the other letter or know for yourself, "Lord Voldemort" _(again, Snape flinched)_ was a menace to every innocent in England-and, in fact, the entirety of the world. But this same feat also resulted in many enemies for young Harry, who cannot effectively defend himself. This is why I cast a spell upon him to ensure his survival.

Whether you are male or female, magical or muggle, human or demon, I find myself uncaring. The spell used upon Harry, one of Blood Protection, has deemed you the best person to protect him from things magical or otherwise. I beg of you to allow him to live as a normal child within your world, and not inform him of what has happened until he is old enough to understand. A teacher from my school, Hogwarts, will arrive in less than ten years' time so Harry may be able to conduct his magical education.

The fate of the Saviour of the Wizarding World, the Boy-Who-Lived, now rests with you.

Oak paused here, then read the signature, his voice soft but firm, "'Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster,' et al."

There was a long moment of silence. Snape was gazing at Dumbledore, an expression of slight incredulousness on his face. Dumbledore was gazing at Bayleef, his eyes slightly misty. Bayleef was staring at Oak, concerned and slightly upset. And Oak was staring at the letter, his own eyes misty as well—but for notably different reasons than Dumbledore.

"I knew who you were the moment you introduced yourself, and why you were here, Professor Dumbledore," Oak said in a voice that was barely more than a hoarse whisper. "But you are here a bit late."

"Four years too late," Dumbledore somberly agreed, gaze still somewhere around Bayleef's back. "Although the state of that letter suggests it was much longer."

"Harry James Potter..." Oak's voice was almost wistful as he read it, then he raised his gaze to the Professors. "The true Harry James Potter...he died, nearly thirty-five years ago."

Snape's back suddenly straightened, his eyes wide with some unknown emotion, and Dumbledore slowly bowed his head so he was looking at the hands folded in his lap. A single drop of water fell onto those hands.

"You're joking," Snape accused, sounding almost the same as Oak had shortly after reading Dumbledore's name. "Surely, you're joking."

"I am not," Oak firmly said, eyes on Snape with renowned strength. "He died shortly before my grandchildren's father was born."

Snape's face was bleached white at the implications of that, while Dumbledore continued to silently stare at his hands.

"Dead...Lily's son..." whispered Snape before reaching up and running a hand down his face. He half-collapsed back into the couch and closed his eyes. "Lily's son is...and the Prophecy...it was all..."

"Prophecy?" echoed Oak with a frown. The death no longer affected him as deeply as it once had and he was able to quickly return to track, but it was obvious the two Professors would take some time to absorb this. Oak re-folded the letter with great care and slowly slipped it into the envelope, which he again wrapped in his blanket, before setting it on the table next to his now-cold tea. His hand found its way to Bayleef's head and the Pokémon cooed protectively, having not yet bothered to move.

"There was a Prophecy, pertaining to Harry," Dumbledore said when he could compose himself, eyes raising and locking with Oak's. A steeliness shone behind those blue orbs when he solemnly recited what was presumably the prophecy: "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._"

Oak remained silent for a long moment, mulling over the prophecy. Then he slowly began to voice his thoughts.

"That prophecy is rather vague," he muttered mostly to himself, although he was aware both Professors and Bayleef had their attentions on him. "'Born as the seventh month dies' could refer to any time after July fifteenth, or any time in September, since 'sept' literally means 'seven' in the Ancient Language...but if we go by the lunar calendar, then it could be between the seventh and eighth full moon, which would be late June early July.

"On top of that," he continued, gaze rising to the ceiling, "'thrice defied him' could refer to any defiance, whether or not it was known. Living...denying the fact he exists...being alive despite the odds...refusing to join him...even one of his presumed followers could be the subject of the prophecy, if they disobeyed him, intentionally or not.

"And marking 'him as his equal'...could happen any time, past or future. Not to mention the 'power the Dark Lord knows not' could be anything from a special ability to simply a connection that this Voldemort" (Snape noticeably didn't flinch this time) "knows nothing about."

Suddenly, Oak fell silent, realization dawning upon him. No way...there was no way...was there? His genius mind whirled, running through the facts. He had listed them himself.

"'Born as the seventh month dies,'" he whispered, slightly shocked, "such as September 29th. 'Thrice defied him' such as living despite the odds, not knowing about Voldemort's very existence, and denying all things magic in favor of science. 'Power the Dark Lord knows not' such as...Pokémon..."

"Bay!" shouted Bayleef in recognition, springing to her feet and gazing with wide eyes at Oak. The Professor nodded somewhat feverishly before jumping up himself with an energy he had no idea he still possessed, pacing back and forth in front of the two Professors.

"You know someone who fits these characteristics?" Dumbledore asked. He sounded both hopeful and intrigued, while Oak nodded rapidly.

"Yes, I do," he told the Headmaster without turning, taking a rapid glance at the clock. "As a matter of fact, he is the descendent of Harry James Potter. His only living male descendent..."

Oak could see the realization strike Dumbledore just a moment before Snape, but before either could comment, the door to the lab opened.

"Hey, Gramps, I'm back," Gary said with a shrug as he walked in, Umbreon trotting silently at his heels. He paused just after the door swung shut, however, and gazed at the two sitting on his grandfather's couch before noticeably narrowing his eyes. "...Gramps..."

"Gary, come here," Oak said, a slight smile in place and a gleam in his eye he knew his grandson did not like one bit. But Gary reluctantly obeyed none the less, stopping next to his grandfather (and Bayleef, who was happily conversing with the mostly-silent Umbreon) and allowing Oak to put an arm around him.

"Professors," Oak slowly introduced, noticing Gary's attention become caught with the title as Oak knew it would, "this is my grandson, Gary Harrison Oak, named after his grandfather." Gary glanced up sharply at Oak with slightly wide eyes, but Oak merely gave the shadow of a wink before continuing on. "Gary, these are two Professors from a boarding school called Hogwarts, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and Professor Severus Snape. They came here looking for someone to join their school, and I thought perhaps they would like to meet you and consider."

"What sort of boarding school?" asked Gary, gaze leveled on Dumbledore as his mind almost visibly whirled. "What do you specialize in?"

Dumbledore smiled, a new light in his eyes despite the heavy mourning still going on in the background. "That's easy, Mr. Oak," he politely said. His eyes were twinkling merrily as he undoubtedly remembered the third defiance Oak listed. "_Magic_."

-END-

Gary - 14

Daisy - 12

Dad - 34

Mom - 33

Oak - 51

Wife - 53

MKL's Post-Production Notes (8-7-13): SPOILERS! Oak is actually Harry. The "death" of Harry Potter that he refers to is when his wife died in an accident 34 years before; he considers that the date of his own "death" so to speak, although he would have obviously recovered since. The timelines of the two worlds are parallel; the only reason why Oak is so old compared to the age he should be is because Celebi took him back in time 50 years. Which makes his later friendship and timetravel with Celebi all the better, eh? It was just coincidence that Gary is only slightly older than Harry should be-though Dumbledore wouldn't see it that way. Conflict! :D Other than that nothing was really planned for this fic.


	4. Harry Potter and the Terrifying Truth

Harry Potter and the Terrifying Truth

Summary: In the final battle against Harry, Voldemort reveals a horrifying truth that all at once scares, fascinates, and awakens the child to the truth of his life. An interesting and very different view on how Voldemort came to be from Rowling's famous canon. Partly DH-compliant, partially series-compliant, semi-/mostly-AU (for Voldemort)

Notes on Timeline: Completely ignores the past of Voldemort except for what was revealed of it in the first five books. Some of the memories from book6 will still apply, but none from when Tom Riddle was young. Basically anything before his sixth year would be completely blank and moldable in order for this to work.

**Prologue  
**_"God help me.  
__I don't see  
__How I can live this way;  
__And I don't know why he's  
__Touching me__—  
__Won't you shine in my direction and help me?!  
__Won't you lend me your protection and help me!?__"  
__**-God Help Me, written and performed by Emilie Autumn**_

They were circling each other silently in a field, two sets of eyes—one emerald green, one ruby red—locked on each other. There was no one around but themselves, as they had retreated into the Forbidden Forest to have this final showdown. It was a silent request from the emerald-eyed teen to protect his friends that, for a reason he could not fathom, the ruby-eyed man had silently agreed to.

Suddenly, the ruby-eyed man, none other than the Dark Lord Voldemort slashed forward with his wand in a sharp motion; without thinking, the emerald-eyed teen Harry Potter threw up a shield-

And to his shock, the curse _rebounded_.

Further causing conflict within the teen was the fact that Voldemort _allowed it to hit_.

Blood gushed from a vertical wound down Voldemort's chest, bisecting him from shoulder to hip, right to left, in a gruesome way. His gaze flickered and locked with Harry's before he collapsed in a heap, breathing heavily.

For reasons unknown to himself, Harry rushed forward to the Dark Lord's side, kneeling numbly next to the elder's head. Voldemort closed his eyes as soon as the student did such and, inexplicably, began to laugh a crazed laugh.

"And thus it begins," he muttered in his cold voice, eyes slowly opening and locking on Harry's. There was only a split second of hesitation before Harry asked what, exactly, was beginning. Voldemort didn't immediately answer, instead reaching up with one finger, ignoring Harry's tensing and instead gently resting the long and bony appendage on the boy's forehead.

Directly over his scar.

It didn't burn, but Harry felt like knowledge exploded into his head. He suddenly knew things he never would have before; about manipulations and trust and those who honestly cared and those who didn't; about Dumbledore's plan to put an innocent child in perpetual danger despite knowing the wizarding world would likely lynch such a child afterward; about abusive relationships and horrible disbelief and fear and _guilt_; and about the truth of Lord Voldemort.

Then, suddenly, the knowledge stopped. It took Harry a long, disoriented moment to realize Voldemort had pulled his hand away and was breathing a bit more heavily than before, yet more shallowly as well. Harry was unable to speak for a bit longer before letting out a hoarse noise of disbelief.

"You..." he whispered, before stopping, then saying, "I..." then pausing again and reaching up to rub at his forehead before finally muttering, "True...?"

"I would not lie about this, Potter, no matter how much you might wish I would," said Voldemort in a harsh whisper that somehow conveyed amusement as well as the man closed his eyes almost peacefully. "It was a long run. Worth it in the end. Run off and bother your friends now, Potter—and make sure you punch the Weasel and his Ministry-slug of a brother for me."

Harry stared for a long moment at what was once his enemy, but was now so completely different, then whirled on his heel and ran off at breakneck speeds.

"Godspeed," muttered Voldemort before falling silent. The trees rustled softly in the wind, and the birds began to speak again. A Thestral began inching its way into the clearing, and soon the blood was being licked up.

A completely different rustle followed shortly after, and with much effort, Voldemort cracked open his eyes...

-.-.-.-

**Epilogue**

Voldemort cracked open his eyes and found himself looking into part-amused and mostly exasperated grey orbs.

"You never change, do you, Lord?" Lucius Malfoy casually accused, smirking at his Master as his son chased off the Thestral.

"Hypocrite," Voldemort quietly responded, closing his eyes. "Shut up and fix it."

"As you wish, my Lord." Carefully, Lucius crouched next to his temporarily incapacitated Master and pulled out his wand, muttering a charm that soon removed most of the wound. Yet Voldemort could still feel how weakened he was, how little energy he had, how close to death he still hovered...Lucius huffing interrupted his thoughts and without a word, Lord Malfoy shoved a vial in Voldemort's face. "Don't complain and just take the stupid Elixir. You wouldn't believe the trouble I had to go through to procure it, my Lord."

Voldemort stared at the Elixir for a long moment before carefully taking it, giving Lucius a doubtful look. "This isn't—"

"It is. Now shut up and drink...if it pleases my Lord."

"Or not, he doesn't really care," Draco carelessly threw over his shoulder.

Smothering a smirk, Voldemort downed the Elixir of Life and closed his eyes as he felt more alive than he had in centuries, literally. Then he slowly climbed to his feet, and a chilling laugh escaped him.

Lord Voldemort, once Tom Marvolo Riddle, once none other than Harry James Potter, was ready for some revenge of his own...

-END-

MKL's Post-Production Notes (8-7-13): Yup, that's all I've got. Two bookends to a story. Hey, at least they're interesting bookends!

SPOILERS: Basically the way this story would go is that the first third would be Harry dealing with a crapload of out-of-context information Voldemort basically dumped into his head. During that time, it would be hinted that Draco was doing something big (Harry, of course, couldn't have the memories of what exactly was going on) but spending his free time becoming somewhat friendly with Harry. Harry would eventually be betrayed by Ron, whose feelings of jealousy would be easily manipulated by Percy (who was still brainwashed by the Ministry's teachings and believed Harry a threat to his newly recovered family), and as a result would throw himself back in time. He'd end up at the orphanage Tom Riddle was said to be dropped off at, deaged to about 7, and basically would live Voldemort's life from there, making alliances and steadily growing more crazed by his attempts to not turn out as Voldemort did while still making all the same mistakes. :END SPOILERS.

This story was meant to be, at its base, a character study. A sort of fate VS free will; nature VS nurture type of experiment. Maybe one day I'll pick the idea up again, but I doubt it. So here ya go! Hope to have intrigued you all~


	5. FMAHP: Virtuous Sin

**Virtuous Sin**

Summary: Harry Potter is sick and tired of the war he's been forced into. The death of his godfather finally makes him snap and he uses Dobby's help to gain access to books from Grimmauld Place that could let him finally end the wizarding world's conflict. Eventually, he ends up finding a book on Alchemy that holds secrets to creating something called a Homunculus…and unwittingly, the boy births a series of demons in human disguise to rein terror on the Wizarding World. NO ROMANCE; book- and manga-based; features all original Homunculi (excluding Father); HP-canon-compliant til post-book5

Pairings: Canon, but for the most part none unless they're important to the plot. Friends-with-benefits and other such flings are not considered pairings. 0:-)

_Episode One_

It was the summer after Fifth Year that young Harry Potter decided he had finally had enough of being coddled and protected like a precious one-of-a-kind glass object. He knew he was supposed to stop Voldemort again with his rebirth (any idiot with a brain could figure that out), and he knew there was a decent chance that the wizarding world would be completely useless in aiding his search (as proven with the events in the Department of Mysteries), and he knew that he wouldn't be able to stop Voldemort without _some_ sort of outside help (because like duh, he was a teenager and Voldemort had literally 50 years of experience on him)...

...but seriously, Dumbledore was starting to tick Harry off. No information, shoddy protection—here's looking at you, Fletcher, whom Harry spotted only four days into his break—that even muggles occasionally saw, no extra training for the fight that would decide the world...seriously, it was like Dumbledore WANTED Harry to die! If it weren't for the fact that Harry could remember tears in the old man's eyes while he was alone in the Infirmary with a sick/injured/etc. and seemingly-unconscious Harry, that would be exactly what the Potter heir would think, especially since Sirius had…well…

So Harry decided to take matters into his own hands with a little help from his motherly owl Hedwig, the loyal and slightly/very unstable House Elf Dobby, and his own time-proven ingenuity. Dobby came first, with Harry asking the overenthusiastic elf to duck into Grimmauld Place and take any books from the old library that weren't cursed and contained information that would help in the war.

The first trip alone brought too many books for Harry to count, and he spent a good chunk of time just shifting them into piles based on subject until one in particular caught his eye, plainer than the rest of the books with only a strange symbol on the cover of a snake stabbed onto a cross with two wings and a crown floating above it. Curious, Harry had put aside his other books in favor of perusing it.

A few moments quickly turned into what was almost a full 24 hours of reading, punctuated with only a brief meal and a short nap, and when he was done Harry was left reeling with information on the archaic art of Alchemy that he had before only vague notions of due to the events of First Year. Thus Hedwig came into play, carrying a note for Nicholas Flamel himself and a silent hope for reply.

The snowy owl returned after two nail-biting days with a short letter and a slim book filled to the brim with small writing in nearly every margin. The rest of Harry's time was focused almost solely on this book and a handful of others, notes quickly filling up his own journal in his messy scrawl until he felt ready.

Ready for the action that would forever change the wizarding world—for better or, more likely, for worse.

_Episode One:  
__The First Homunculus_

"That you, Harry?" the old owner of the Leaky Cauldron, Tom, asked quietly with a blink at the black-haired teen sitting isolated near the door to Diagon Alley with a hooded muggle sweater hiding his identity. A sheepish grin and large green eyes met his inquiry.

"Hello, Tom," greeted the teen just as quietly, reaching up to brush his bangs away to show off his scar for confirmation before giving a little wave. Tom was clearly bemused.

"May I ask why you're being so secretive?"

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "Mostly, I just don't want people to mob me like the first time I was here." He grinned reassuringly at Tom's embarrassed look. "Plus I'm looking for a place to stay for the rest of the summer along with a few friends of mine. Do you have, um," he paused and glanced down at the open notebook before him then glancing up again, "eight rooms available? We can work with less, but…"

"Eight rooms?" Tom glanced at the ceiling thoughtfully and seemed to ponder this for a little while before his eyes lit up. He gave a toothless smile at the Hogwarts student. "I've got a suite on the third level that could work."

"A suite?" asked Harry with a blink, closely followed by, "Wait, there's a third level?"

Tom chuckled and nodded. "It's got five rooms all connected to a main lounge area," he explained, "and can be magically enlarged to make more if need be. It's not used much since it costs a bit more than just getting two or three double-bed rooms, but…"

Harry's grin returned even brighter than before. "That'd be perfect. Can I rent that out for the rest of the summer?"

"It'd cost quite a bit…"

"Well, I do have an inheritance coming up," joked Harry, "so I might as well use up what's left of my trust vault. Not like I have much else to spend it on."

"And your friends could chip in," Tom added helpfully, chuckling and nodding. "All right, I'll set it up. Do you want me to expand it now or do you want me to wait for your friends?"

After a moment's pause, Harry slowly shook his head. "No…no, I think I'll wait until they show up." A bitter smile crossed his lips. "I'm not even sure all of them will, so I'll let you know."

Not questioning this, Tom merely moved the conversation to the subject of payments before handing over the key and giving directions. A final wave to the barkeep and Harry was soon out of sight, dragging his school trunk and carefully glancing through his notebook again as he disappeared up the stairs.

**-****Virtuous Sin-**

"35 liters water, 4 liters ammonia, 20 kilograms carbon, 1.5 kilograms lime…" muttered Harry to himself as he went over his ingredients. He had to make sure everything was perfect; that he had all the composition materials needed for this and then some, just to make sure the result wasn't completely screwed over along with Harry himself. Soon satisfied that he had the required materials, he leaned back, taking a deep breath.

"Let's hope this works," he said to the room at large even though he was the only one within it. "Only one ingredient missing."

Careful so as not to mess up the cautiously measured diagram before him or the various items within it, Harry reached behind himself and pulled forth a small jar with a faded label containing what appeared to be red liquid. He poured it into his hand to take a semi-solid state in his palm, quivering slightly under the deep green gaze of its possessor.

There was no turning back now, Harry decided with a deep breath, leaning forward and putting the small drop near to the center of the array he had spent nearly two days perfecting. He slowly put his hands along the edges, closing his eyes and picturing what he wanted to create, what he wanted to bring back to life for the first time, how it would form, where it would form, why it would form …

Bright lights ranging in color from deep crimson to bright purple lit up the room, trailing from the array, blocking Harry's vision with its intensity and forcing him to close his eyes until they died down. But when he opened them, he wasn't crouching in the room above the Leaky Cauldron anymore. Actually, he wasn't in _any_ room anymore, apparently; surrounded by a large expanse of pure snowy white, unnerved because he was _standing on nothing_, Harry didn't see the large double doors until he had looked all around himself. He narrowed his eyes as he examined the rather plain doors before him, featuring most prominently an image of a Basilisk and a Phoenix twirled together in either a dance to the death or a loving embrace.

**Hello.**

Startled out of his examination, Harry jumped at the voice (which wasn't really a voice at all, but rather a thought, a gesture, a sound, a silence, Nothing and Everything all at once) before turning to face the strange Not-Being sitting casually against the outer edge of the double door. The Not-Being was a void and full all at once, the same body structure as Harry and yet so completely different, indistinguishable yet completely unique when compared to Its surroundings.

**This is a rarity. There aren't many visitors from this Side of the Gate nowadays.**

The Not-Being seemed to smile with eerily perfect teeth, the first thing Harry could say with certainty existed here just as it appeared.

**Welcome to my humble abode, Mr. Wizard.**

"Um," was Harry's immediate response, eyes trained on the eerie bared teeth rather than the Not-Being Itself, "thank you?"

The Not-Being let out a sound/silence that was a laugh and a scream at the same time.

**You're quite welcome! But I am curious, Mr. Wizard…why are you treading so casualty into the territory of the Truth? Just to bring to life a being or two that you've never met before out of the goodness of your heart? Or is it a more selfish reason than that?**

Reminded of his mission, Harry shook his head to rearrange his thoughts and nodded, eyes raising to train on approximately where the Not-Being's would exist…if they did exist.

"I can't win this war alone," he said slowly, thinking as he spoke, "and if I need help…why not get it from those who otherwise would never get the chance to live?"

The Not-Being gave Its screaming laugh, amused and angry at these words.

**I must say, this is one of the better answers I've gotten since the Alchemist on the Other Side gave up his own Gate. Very well, Mr. Wizard, I'm sure I can grant your request. But a word of warning…**

The large doors creaked and began to slowly open, a figure forming within from the dark tethers that vaguely resembled hands and arms and feet and legs all at once, and the Not-Being bared its teeth in that oddly obvious smile.

**The Sin you embody can only be used by you. Don't make the mistake of trying to separate yourself from it, or else the Toll will be much, much higher than it would otherwise be…**

The doors opened.

The Not-Being disappeared.

And out stumbled a beautiful woman clothed in black, matching her long, soft hair, with the only bits of color being stripes of red down her arms and a small red tattoo between her clavicles.

-END-

MKL's Post-Production Notes (8-10-13): SPOILERS! Basically Harry would end up reviving all of the Homunculus except for one, which would be the "embodiment of his sin"-meaning the sin that's most applicable to him. I was toying between it being Greed or Wrath...Greed because, well, it's Greed and I really had no other reason and Wrath because of his infamous temper. It probably would have been Wrath in retrospect. Anyway, basically the Homunculus would work with him and the group would basically win the war single-handedly: Envy would have spied as a member of the Inner Circle that had been killed, Lust would have done something similar to what she did with Havoc only with a Death Eater to get other information, Pride would have ended up enrolled in Hogwarts thanks to some magicking, and the others...had roles. That I didn't write down in my notes. xD Whoops~

This is another story I'd REALLY like to finish some day, but it would definitely be unlikely, so enjoy what I do have! And maybe someone could pick it up? -wiggles eyebrows-


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